


for the living

by Darnaguen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Introspection, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Pining, S5 spoilers, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darnaguen/pseuds/Darnaguen
Summary: New fandom, who dis?Some Clarke/Bellarke feels I had to get out after binging the entire series in a week.





	for the living

–-

She dreams.

Dreams that she has the courage to touch his face, run the fingers of both hands through his hair, gently down his cheekbones, over his eyelids and the faint lines in the corners of his eyes.

His eyes that are a bottomless well when her fingers comb hungrily through the scruff at his jaw. His eyes that haunt her long after she wakes with a leaden heart, fingers itching.

-

She dreams.

Dreams that she wades into a rocky river, waist-deep in the numbing-cold water. He stands there, staring at the sky and then at her when her fingers slip under his soaked shirt.

“I…” she starts to say when her palms are flat against his trembling abdomen and the heat in his eyes melts the ice.

“I know,” he says and his eyes are Finn’s eyes.

She stumbles back and falls, sinking into the deep, and when she wakes she still feels like she’s drowning.

-

“I loved you,” she says, watching the dreamscape swirl around them. The cracked concrete is warm under her hands when she leans back to look up at her.

“And you always will,” Lexa smirks, twirling the dagger lazily between her fingers. But her eyes are sad.

“Love is a weakness,” she argues feebly.

“It’s not.” She sheathes the dagger and crouches before her, taking her head between her hands and pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“He kept you alive.”

-

Wells sits beside her under the mossy tree crawling with life.

“I’m proud of you,” he says.

“Are you?” She throws a pebble into the crystalline water, watching the fish scatter.

“Yes.” His tone brooks no argument. 

“And you deserve to live.” 

(The  _as opposed to_  is unspoken but understood.)

There are hot tears on her cheeks when she wakes, and cool lips against the corner of her eye.

_“So live.”_

_–-_


End file.
